


The One Where Aziraphale Falls

by ZoeBel



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angst, Fallen Angel Aziraphale (Good Omens), Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-10
Updated: 2019-09-16
Packaged: 2020-08-14 10:20:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,859
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20190694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZoeBel/pseuds/ZoeBel
Summary: Picks up during Crowley and Aziraphale's trials, but instead of being made to burn in Hell Fire Aziraphale (the real Aziraphale) is made to fall. Now he's got to deal with his new identity and cope with this new role. Good thing Crowley is there, doing his best to help Aziraphale adjust.





	1. 1

**Author's Note:**

> First post so if anyone has any formatting tips HMU

Aziraphale sat in a steel chair with his wrists tied to the armrests. In front of him stood three of the four Archangels, the fourth, Michael, was currently in Hell delivering Holy Water to the Prince of Hell. Aziraphale sat expressionless and stared at the Archangels. Uriel walked toward him and effortlessly removed the ropes from his wrists and the chair.“Imagine he's downstairs then, in your place.” They said, looking rather displeased at the angel in front of them.  
“I’m not quite sure what you’re talking about I’m afraid.” Aziraphale replied, rubbing the tender parts of his wrists.  
“Aziraphale,” Said Gabriel. “Really?” He walked towards Aziraphale, taking his time with each step. Aziraphale held his wrist and stammered nervously, looking for something to say. Gabriel never gave him the chance and instead snatched up Aziraphale’s hand in his. Gabriel held Aziraphale's hand tightly, if he hadn’t been an angel the grip might have broken his fingers.  
His hand began to warm, then get hot, then start burning, then start really burning. He squirmed in his chair and yelled out in pain.  
“FUCK'S SAKE!”  
Gabriel threw the imposter's hand down and smiled. Aziraphale looked up at him like a child caught in a lie.  
“Michael should be back soon.” Gabriel said simply before stepping backwards into place by Uriel and Sandalphon.  
\---  
Crowley stood, now fully clothed, in front of his court with a damp towel around his neck. He put on his sunglasses once again and sauntered out of the room.  
“Ciao.” He added as he left, throwing a loose wave into the air. He was very pleased with his performance and smiled to himself as he walked away. Suddenly, as he passed by an elevator, he was pulled inside. Michael was quick to tie a rope around the confused demon.  
“What in the-!”  
“ENOUGH!” interrupted Michael. The two of them stared at each other, Crowley a bit scared, Michael nearly seething. The doors of the elevator opened to the bright white of heaven.  
“Ah! Just the man we’ve been waiting for.” Gabriel greeted with a smile. The one previously thought to be Aziraphale turned, worried, to Crowley as he was being practically dragged next to the chair. Crowley looked at Aziraphale’s imposter and went from a bit scared to very scared. Michael took Not Aziraphal’s burnt hand and Crowley’s tied hands and forced them together. Crawling from their hands and traveling around the rest of their bodies, their appearances began to switch back to their rightful owners.  
“Aziraphale I-” Crowley began.  
“Good-bye.” Gabriel said with a smile before the floor opened up behind the chair Crowley was still in and he was pushed out, into the air and plummeted towards Earth. Aziraphale, the real Aziraphale, stood frozen, mouth open, eyes wide, and breathless as he watched the form of Crowley disappear behind clouds with Crowley-shaped holes in them.  
“Aziraphale, ” he closed his mouth and snapped his head to Gabriel. “So glad you could finally make it.” Gabriel smiled a wide grin that wasn’t wide enough to hide his frustration, but just barely. “Originally, I had planned on you jumping and burning till completely destroyed in Hell Fire, but that decision has been… overruled. Instead, it has been decided that Heaven no longer wants to have anything to do with you. Therefore, you have been sentenced - for lying to and betraying the Almighty and Heaven itself - to Hell.”  
Somehow, it was possible for Aziraphale’s eyes to widen more, and they did. He opened his mouth to say something but didn't get the chance before Gabriel pushed lightly, asshole-ishly lightly, on Aziraphale’s chest and he began to fall.  
\---  
Crowley had passed through the ceiling of his flat and onto his couch, toppling it to the floor along with himself. He shot up, sitting now, and gasped.  
“Aziraphale!”  
He bolted from the floor out of his flat and to his Bentley now parked outside.  
\---  
The wind whipped past Aziraphale at not only an alarming speed but a painful one. He caught fire and it was burning his clothes and hair. His eyes in particular were burning with a hot blue flame that burned into his skull. He screamed in pain and the sound echoed through the sky and turned into booming thunder.  
He passed through London, through the Earth and landed with a hard, heavy, and flat thwump on the floor of a dark, dank little office.  
“Welcome.” said a fake voice from a dull looking demon who was not looking up from her desk. “Take a seat, I’ll be with you in a second.” Aziraphale sat up. His eyes and his body still burned, smoke was rising from scorch marks in his hair and on his clothes. He stood up, steadily, and sat himself down in an uncomfortable flat chair in front of the desk.  
“What’s going on exactly?” he asked tentatively. The woman behind the desk looked up for the first time.  
“Processing.” She returned to looking at the mess of paperwork in front of her. “Previously, you were… Guardian of the East Gate of Eden, and wielder of the flaming sword - do you still have that?”  
“Uuuh… no… processing for, uuuhh, what exactly, if you dont mind me asking.” Aziriphale played nervously with his hands in his lap and his heart raced while waiting to hear exactly what he did not want to hear.  
“You’ve fallen, mate. You're becoming a demon. The process isn’t exactly like it was in The Beginning but we dont get too many angels falling these days so we just lump you lot in with the rest.” Aziraphale’s heart, or whatever was in its place, fell to his feet, his mind went blank, and all the color that he had left in his face disappeared.  
“Given your record of frivolous miracles and how closely you have worked with the higher ups of Heaven these past few days, along with your known correspondence to the demon Crowley - you will not believe what just happened with him i tell you- you will be on probation for… six months, six days, and six hours. How fun. You will still operate in… Soho, and someone will be coming to check that you are up to no good once a week, mostly whenever they feel like it. Oh, and you’ll no longer be a dove, you’ve been assigned to Raven instead and, unlike angels, demons have more of a use for transforming. Have a nice day.”  
“Is there a chance that I-”  
“Good-bye!” Aziraphale was teleported from the office to his book shop, the middle of his book shop in fact, right above a table of assorted books. He fell onto the table with a crash, sending books flying and toppling over the table. He laid there on the floor, unmoving, for a moment. He was processing, so much had happened so fast and with so little input from himself he needed a moment of quiet to go over what had happened. The moment didn't last long when Crowley came crashing through the doors of the shop.  
“Aziraphale!” He yelled, seeing his body lying motionless on the floor. He ran to Aziraphale and turned him over onto his back. “Aziraphale what's happened?”  
“I… I’ve…” he sat up. Something was welling up in Aziraphale, something he had never felt before, or if he had, never like this, never this strong. Crowley put a comforting, worried hand on his shoulder and the feeling inside of Aziraphale exploded. He slapped away Crowley’s hand and shot up to his feet.  
“This is all your fault Crowley!” he yelled. “None of this would have happened if you hadn’t… hadn’t… tempted me!”  
“Angel, what are you saying?” Crowley stood up to meet Aziraphale.  
“You’re so stupid Crowley! I’m not an angel anymore! Because of you!” Aziraphale stormed off, up the stairs of the shop to where, what he called, his room was, fuming. Crowley was completely lost - lost in what had just happened, what to do, and what to say. In a moment like this, being lost and left alone, people tend to put their hands in their pockets and wander far away from the situation that had made them feel so lost. Crowley did this too but, being English, he wandered to the store's kitchenette and put on the kettle.


	2. Chapter 2

Aziraphale had no idea what was going on. So much was still happening and he hadn’t had the time to even think of what he was saying. What had he said to Crowley,  _ you’re so stupid, this is your fault.  _ Heaven’s sake- or someone’s sake - how terrible of him. He really was turning into a terrible person - celestial - occult - ethereal being. He thought he should apologize, and turned to go back down the stairs to do so. But, when he did, another wave of rage washed over him and he decided against it. Seething, he went into the small and rarely (if ever) used bathroom in his rarely (if ever) used bedroom. 

He looked in his small medicine cabinet mirror above his small sink in his small bathroom and screamed a blood curdling scream. His hair had turned from platinum blond to an ashy greay-black. The clothes that he had kept like new scene 1886 were now nearly destroyed and covered in ash and soot and burned black. And his eyes, his eye sockets were blackened and could thankfully be wiped away but his eyes themselves had gone from blue irises and white eyeball to black eyeball and bright white-blue irises. He didn’t recognize himself anymore, the body he had kept nearly pristine for 6000 years no longer looked like his, no longer felt like his. He fell to his knees on the floor, tears welled in his new eyes and fell down his cheeks in rapid succession. He wiped away the tears on one cheek and checked them. Thankfully, the tears weren’t blood like he was terrified of but were water. At least he still had that. He let his hands fall, resting lazally on the floor, and hung his head, crying more. 

Crowley opened the bathroom’s door tentatively and peaked his head in. 

“Ang-uuuhh-iraphale… Are you alright?”

“Go away.” Aziraphale covered his face with his hands in a weak attempt at hiding. Crowley walked in, knelt beside him, and placed his hand around Aziraphale’s shoulder.

“I-... It’s not that bad, once you get the hang of it.” was Crowley’s attempt at comforting but all it did was make Aziraphale cry louder. “I- oh damn it… I’m sorry Aziraphale.” 

Aziraphale fell onto Crowley’s chest, taking in whatever form of comfort he could. Crowley took this moment to pull Aziraphale a bit closer and wrap another arm around his shoulders. 

It took Aziraphale two hours to fully calm himself down. He thought he was calmed down an hour ago, but he saw his reflection in the mirror again and fell back to the floor in tears. This time, however, he actually was calmed down. He sat on his bed, focusing on his breathing while Crowley was downstairs pouring them both some tea. It didn’t take him long at all and, by some miracle, when Crowley had gone downstairs the kettle had just begun screaming. When Crowley returned with the cups Aziraphale was laying on his back, his legs hanging off the side of the bed. He wrapped his arms over his face and sighed heavily. 

“You all right Aziraphale?” Crowley asked, setting the two cups of tea on a nearby nightstand.

“No, ” Aziraphale said, muffled by his arms. “I shouldn’t have said that. It’s not - I just- it's…”

“It’s a bit weird innit?” Crowley sat down in a chair Aziraphale had put nearby for reading. 

“I was sent to Earth to thwart demons and their… trouble making.” Aziraphale sat up and took the remaining cup of tea.

“And now you’re being sent to Earth to ‘make trouble’. Honestly it’s more fun to make the trouble than stop it.” 

“But, everything I've been told- everything I  _ stand for-  _ has been in the name of Go-” Aziraphale broke out into a horrible coughing fit that took him a moment to get over. When he was done he put his forehead in his hands and took a few breaths. 

“It’s not that you can’t say God, so you know, it was more what you said before that… if that means anything to you…” there was a very brief pause that made Crowley feel uncomfortable and he took an audible sip of his tea.

“I have bibles.” Aziraphale started. “Every edition of every print of the Bible. Holy manuscripts the British Museum couldn’t rip from my hands. Crucifixes, rosaries, an entire room you can’t even go into Crowley. And now I can't even go into to maintain…” 

“Well it’s not like they’re going anywhere, An-Aziraphale.” 

Aziraphale looked up at Crowley, his lips tight and his eyebrows frowned. He felt angry again. He was deciding he didn’t like feeling angry but he wasn’t completely sure yet how not to be. Crowley smiled as his form of an apology and got up from the chair. 

“Let’s get lunch.” he stated. 

“No.” Said Aziraphale for the first time.

“Oh come on… you. It’ll do you no good moping about here with your holy room and… old books.” 

“I’m not going anywhere looking like this. Things might have changed but I still have standards, Crowley.” 

Crowley looked the slumped over Aziraphale up and down. He was absolutely miserable and it made Crowley feel miserable seeing him like that. Aziraphale’s clothes hadn’t turned black through the fall, they were legitimately  _ blackened _ with soot and ash and the works. The clothes could be cleaned and, honestly, should be. 

“Well,” Crowley started, tilting his head at Aziraphale. “You just need to change is all.” 

“Don’t remind me.” Aziraphale stood up and walked to an oak dresser. The dresser was full of old clothes from centuries before. Aziraphale will always regret not being able to keep the outfit he wore to France in the 1780’s, it was one of his favorites. He was able to find a suit from 1964 that would work. It was dark blue with a brown vest and tie and a white shirt. He held the outfit in has hands and replaced it with the burnt one he was wearing. He put the burnt suit, now folded nicely, on top of the dresser to remind himself to clean and fix it.

“That’s a nice change.” Commented Crowley, raising his eyebrows. Aziraphale gave him a look in return. 

“I don’t even know why I'm doing this.” He said, defiant. 

“Let’s go then, I think a spot just opened up at the Ritz.” Crowley led Aziraphale out of the book shop and opened the door for him when they got to the Bentley. As they drove to the Ritz Aziraphale caught a glimpse of himself in the rearview mirror. 

“Oh my!” Aziraphale exclaimed, putting his hands on his cheeks. “My eyes, I forgot about my eyes! I- I can’t - we need to go back Crowley!”

“Calm down A- ziraphale. Check the glove box i always have an extra pair.” Crowley was currently wearing his extra pair but that doesn't mean he didn't make his previous pair of glasses appear in the glove box just before Aziraphale could open it. Aziraphale put them on and looked at himself in the rear view mirror again, on purpose this time. He wasn’t at all happy with how he looked but at least he appeared normal to humans. Hopefully. 

They were able to get their regular table at the Ritz, Aziraphale did notice the hostess stare at him more than once and had convinced himself that she had seen right through him and knew what kind of monster he had turned into. In reality she was surprised to see him in such dark clothing and sunglasses, something that was normally reserved for his boyfriend. It must be the redhead's influence on him that compelled him to dress like that. She was also thinking of telling the others that they can’t be “the redhead and the blond” anymore and “the redhead and the one with the black hair” wasn’t nearly as good.

“We should leave.” Aziraphale said once they sat down. 

“Nonsense.” Crowley replied. “And I’m not going to listen to you whining about wanting to go back to your shop this whole time either. You’re going to eat something sweet, and you’re going to feel better,  _ then _ maybe I’ll let you go back to the shop.”

Aziraphale looked up and thought  _ Lord help me, _ then wondered if he should be doing that anymore. The waitress came with their wine and took their orders.

“So… you… what happened? If you dont mind me asking.” Crowley asked, his hands folded on top of eachother waiting to listen very closely.

“What happened when?” Aziraphale asked. “What happened to you?” 

“When I ‘fell’? In the beginning?”

“I was asking about a more recent fall but, you never did tell me about the beginning, you’ve only ever said, oh what was it you said, sauntered vaguely downwards?” 

“Well,” Crowley crossed his arms and rested them on the table. “When I fell, sauntered, whatever, it was just us. Thoses who didn’t agree with God or didn’t like them or what other reasons they made up.” 

“Why did you join them. I know you never like to hear it but I have always wondered why you joined the… others, because you are really very good natured.” 

Crowley raised an eyebrow at Aziraphale and realized he was losing the leg he has standing on and his “not nice” defence. 

“If I remember correctly,” He continued. “It was because of a disagreement about people knowing right and wrong. Probably why they sent me in particular to cause trouble. Back then though it was just a group of us on fire for a few hours and heading underground. Hastar, I think, said there was a process you went through now.” 

Aziraphale adjusted himself in his seat and hoped that the waitress would come back with their food and interrupt this conversation. He wasn’t so lucky, however, and took a drink of wine. 

“Come on now, Itold you mine, you tell me yours.” Crowley urged. 

“Fine,” Aziraphale huffed. “It’s not interesting anyway.”

“Never said it had to be.”

Aziraphale shot Crowley a look before continuing. “Well, after you fell out of the room, Gabriel just… pushed me. And I, you know, fell and caught fire, and landed in this, just depressing little office in what must have been hell.” 

“Fucking - Gabriel would do that, wouldn’t he. Spent all of three minutes looking at the arse and you can just tell he fought for the chance to do that, the bastard.” Crowley sat back in his seat, arms still crossed. Aziraphale felt angry again, this time thought it was a bit more pleasant. He could tell Crowley was obviously, angry too and felt a sort of comradery with him over their shared rage.

“It’s not like I’ve ever done anything to him anyway.” Aziraphale said moving his hands from his lap and resting them on the edge of the table. “The most he’s ever talked to me was this last week so it’s not like there was ever much of a chance for me to do anything too wrong to him.” The two of them had a small laugh over their mutual hatred of Gabriel. Aziraphale took another drink of wine then remembered something that was probably pretty important.

“I just remembered.” Aziraphale started, cutting his drink short. “I’m on probation.”

“What does that mean?” Asked Crowley remembering he also had wine and took a drink as well. 

“Someone is apparently going to be checking in on me from time to time to make sure im ‘up to no good.’ They also think you’re some sort of… I don’t know but it seemed like the woman I talked to was scared of you.” 

“Thank you for that. I uh… Well…” Crowley bit the skin on his lips and twirled the wine in his hand. He wasn’t exactly use to saying sorry and wasn’t sure that a simple sorry would suffice in this situation.

“It’s not like you did anything on purpose… right?”

“Aziraphale, I’m shocked! Just because we’re both demons now doesn’t mean we stop trusting each other now.” 

“Don’t remind me.” Aziraphale took a longer drink of his wine as the waitress came with their food. 

\---

Through no choice of their own they ate in silence for the first time. Aziraphale didn’t want to say anything and Crowley felt there was nothing he could say. Throughout dinner and over two more glasses of wine Aziraphale felt his anger slowly and steadily rising and worked hard to make sure that anger stayed inside. He almost lost it when the waitress complimented him on “his new hair color” but swallowed hard, put on a smile and thanked her. 

When they were done with lunch and getting into Crolwey’s Bentley Aziraphale slammed the car’s door a bit too hard and Crowley noticed. 

“What’s wrong.” He asked. Aziraphale sat still, biting his lip, and staring ahead out the windshield.

“Nothing.” Aziraphale was about to explode. Crowley started the car and drove as he normally does, fast and only kind of paying attention. 

“You almost broke the window Aziraphale.” 

“Oh, I’m sorry. Didn’t realize.” 

Crowley had finished the plan in his head he had started at the Ritz and was ready to act on it. He realized he wasn’t going to get anything out of Aziraphale in a public, or nearly public space, so his first step was to get out of the public eye. Stepping harder on the gas the car sped off at 120 down the semi crowded road. 

“Crowley do you always have to drive like a maniac?”

“Everything’s fine… you.” 

They arrived with a screeching halt at Crowley’s flat. 

“What are we doing here?” Aziraphale asked getting out of the car. 

“You,” Crowley pointed with purpose at Aziraphale. “Are surrounded by too many  _ celestial _ things at that shop of yours. You need to, for now,” He added seeing the bewildered look on Aziraphale’s face. “Get away from all that… holy mess” 

“And what if i don’t want to?” Aziraphale asked stopping in his tracks just before reaching the door of the flat. 

“I tell you, if you want to go back and touch up all your Bibles then go ahead and do it, but it wont be fun, I can promise you that.” 

Aziraphale huffed, all he wanted to do was go home and organize and take an inventory of all his books, and plays, and bibles, but Crowley was right. He followed Crowley into his flat. 

It was practically the same as when he last visited 40 years ago, updated appliances and the like but otherwise the same. He stood in the living room and leaned against the leather couch. Crowley had gone to the kitchen and returned with four bottles of red wine. 

“While I love the Ritz, their whine could be stronger.”Crowley set the bottles on the coffee table and picked up one very dark red bottle. “I’ve had this, scene 1793, vineyard said it was Mari Antoninette’s blood, but also said it was going to be the best bottle i would ever drink, so I’ve been saving it.” 

Aziraphale took the bottle while Crowley made two wine glasses appear. The bottle itself was tinted red adn the label on the front was handwritten and pasted to the front. “ _ mort à la reine”  _ It read. 

“Death to the queen.” Aziraphale repeated, uncorking the bottle and pouring it into the glasses Crowley was holding. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TW implied gore

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back and I'm using Grammarly so hopefully, I get better

They had gone through all four bottles and were working on five and six by the time night fell over London. 

“And-and-and-andof COURSE God would just  _love _ a movie a pretty little nun in a pretty little country singing about hwo pretty the wold aroundher is and saying  _no_ to Natzies. 

“Did-sid-did you know that, that a  _lot_ of people in HEaven still think that whole yahtzee thing was your lot?”

“Reeelly?” Crowley was leaning back on the couch with his legs crossed. He had never seen Aziraphale so worked up and he was enjoying hearing all of this gossip about the goings-on of Heaven. 

“ _I know!_ ” By this point in the night, Aziraphale had one hand moving wildly as he talked and one hand firmly around his constantly refilling wine glass with his legs tucked underneath himself. 

“I-i’ve told them, told them so _ so so _ many times I’ve said ‘No, the humans jsut did that’ and all of ‘em,  _all. Of. Them. _ just said ‘Nao naonaonaonao, humans could  _never_ do something like that! That- that- that’s devil work that is!’ Can you believe that?”

“ _Yes!”_ Crowley said with a huge grin and a laugh. Aziraphale snorted before laughing with Crowley even if he wasn’t entirely sure why. 

“Yu-  _hehe_ \- you know what?”

“ _WHAT!”_

_“Shud UP!” _ both of them burst out in uncontrollable laughter again before Aziraphale continued. 

“No, _but!_ There are soo_ooooo_ many things that _I’ve_ _never_ done becasue I was worried about heaven and all that…” Aziraphale looked around quickly. “_Shit!” _

Crowley was, admittedly, a bit shocked but Aziraphale cursing but being drunk at the time he was floored by this. He gasped and dropped his jaw. 

“Like dogni that! Fuck fuck fuck fuck  _fuc_ ! It doesn’t matter! No one gives a shit if you swear! Well, I knew tht no one gave a shit if you swear, but you will not be _lieve_ how hoity-toity the others  _are_ aabout that kind of thing! Like we all - guuuh, they all- need to constantly be up their own  _ass_ about everything.” 

“They can’t stop you know though!” Crowley cheered on. 

“No they  _can’t_ ! They can’t tell me I can't eat sweets, they can’t tell me I can't drink.” Aziraphale downed the last of the wine in his glass. “And!” He stood up from the couch and set his wine glass on the coffee table in front of him. “They can’t tell me I can’t do this!” 

He stared at Crowley and paused. His heart raced and his stomach churned and he wasn’t sure if it was because of that he was thinking of doing or all the wine. 

“What are you doing?” Crowley asked, still sitting on the couch using both hands to hold his wine glass. 

“I’m going to throw up.” Aziraphale ran from the room and into the kitchen, making it just in time to vomit in the sink. 

“Oh no!” Crowley said from the other room. He got up, set his glass down and joined Aziraphale in the kitchen. Crowley put his hand on Aziraphale’s back and rubbed small comforting circles into him. “You ok?”

Aziraphale held up a finger, telling Crowley to hold on. His stomach lurched once more before it settled. He let out a breath and leaned against the sink. 

“Thank you.” He said to Crowley, still rubbing his back. 

“You need water.” Crowley turned around and grabbed a glass out of the cupboard above him. By the time he put it on the counter next to Aziraphale hit was already filled with water. “Sorry, it’s not holy.” He smiled to himself. Aziraphale shot him a look before taking a drink. 

“Angels don't drink holy water Crowley.” 

“I  _know…_ what were you going to do by the way?” 

Aziraphale raised an eyebrow at Crowley before taking another drink. 

“What do you mean?” He asked.

“You were talking about… things you were afraid to do and could do now. Then you said there was something you could do now.” Crowley, leaning against the counter with his arms crossed, turned to look at Aziraphale. His eyes were dilated and he was unaware that he was putting his lips but it made Aziraphale’s stomach churn again, but this time he knew it wasn’t from the wine. He blushed and turned away from Crowley. 

“I don’t remember.” He lied. 

“You mind if I do something, then, that I’ve always wanted to do?” 

“What would that be?”

Crowley shifted and straightened himself up. His heart started to beat faster as he quickly planned his next move and convinced himself to go through with it. 

The moment was quick, blink and you’ll miss Crowley giving Aziraphale a light kiss on the cheek. Aziraphale froze, nearly, he did drop the glass in his hand into the sink but, miraculously, it didn't break. Crowley stood, looking and waiting for a reaction. 

“Uh, should I have not-”

“No!” Aziraphale blurted, unfreezing himself. He quickly corrected himself and tone, trying to seem like he wasn’t still at least buzzing and also not extremely elated by the kiss. “I just, uh, I wasn’t… expecting that was all.”

Both Aziraphale and Crowley’s faces were bright red, and not from the drinks, and they shared a nervous laugh. 

“I was thinking you were going to do that when you first got up so I just… sorta… figured, might as well.”

“Well, I guess I should admit, I was planning on doing something like that, but not quite.”

“Oh yeah?” Crowley, intrigued by what he missed out on. “What were you thinking?”

“Well.” Aziraphale turned himself to face Crowley. His heart started to beat faster than it already had been after Crowley had kissed, and his stomach churned again in anticipation. He breathed out and looked at Crowley, locking eyes with him. Crowley had a tempting smile on his face that grew when Aziraphale looked at him. Aziraphale laughed nervously again, he then placed his hands on either side of Crowley’s face and pulled him in for a soft kiss on the lips. 

They both lingered in the kiss for only seconds but for them, they were making up for the lost time. As they broke away from each other a wave of relief washed over Crowley. Relief that after 6,000 years of being unsure of his feelings, of walking on eggshells, and tip-toeing around feelings and flirts that he finally felt reciprocated in his feelings. Aziraphale, while having enjoyed the moment and still felt Crowley’s lips on his even after a moment had passed, couldn’t help but feel a twinge of regret in having done… _ That_ . Don’t be fooled, he loved the kiss, he had been waiting to do that for over millennia and, almost did after Crowley had saved his book from the Nazis. His heart, at that moment, soared and he felt a great deal more love in the room and coming from Crowley then he regularly did, but hiding under it all was the feeling that had held him back from never having kissed Crowley sooner. It wasn’t quite sin, just more something he wasn’t supposed to do. Not that it had anything to do with the two of them presenting as men, God had never damned the gay or any other sort to Hell, that was something humans had thought up. It was more that they were Demon and Angel and they were hardly supposed to get along let alone have feelings for one another, besides hate or disgust and those sorts of feelings. Aziraphale thought that now that he wasn’t - or - that he… lost his job he decided to call it for now, that nothing was stopping the two of them from sharing feelings and being together. Sure demons didn’t trust one another but that was more of a learned nature not a rule, hell, he and Crowley could not trust other demons together even. The feeling he was doing something wrong stayed, though. He turned all of his feelings over and over in his head trying to justify and reason out decide what it was exactly he was trying to feel. 

He was doing this literally, it took actual time for him to do this. In the kitchen, Aziraphale’s eyes pointed in the vague direction that Crowley’s chest happened to be and he stood with a hand held by his chest. 

“Angel?” Crowley asked, tilting his head to meet Aziraphale’s eyes. Once their eyes met and Crowley was at about a 45-degree angle Aziraphale snapped out of thought. 

“I’m sorry dear what?” Aziraphale asked trying to act as if he had never left. 

“You alright?” Crowley’s previously confident thoughts of requited love were slowly breaking down again as he looked at Aziraphale, who wasn’t smiling and whose face seemed to grow more serious. 

“Yes, fine dear. I do think I should be heading back to my shop, however.”

“Right, yeah, sure. I can take you -”

“No I’ll be fine. I’ll just…” Aziraphale trailed off as he left the kitchen. He walked through the living room and to the door of Crowley’s flat. Normally on the outside was a hall and stairwell, but when Aziraphale opened the door and walked through he walked into the entrance of his book store and shut the door behind himself. Crowley, close behind him, opened the door almost as soon as it shut but only found the same hallway he always had. 

Crowley wanted desperately to follow Aziraphale, he could tell that nothing good was going to come from leaving him alone in his shop, and at the same time… He felt he was intruding. As if he was unwanted, which might be the case considering it was him that ruined the plan. It was him, wasn’t it… it was the mannerisms that the Archangels caught onto he bet. After being around Aziraphale he would have thought he would have picked up on a few things but he suspected a “few things” wasn’t enough for them. He was feeling rather guilty now. He had made his best friend, dare he say his love, fall and all he did to help was drag him around town when he didn’t want to just to get him back to his flat to get smashed. And what did he do when both of them were so drunk that Aziraphale had vomited? Well, he took advantage of Aziraphale in a weak position and stole a kiss from him is what he did. What kind of asshole does that anyway? 

Crowley went to the coffee table filled with wine and picked up another bottle, It was the last full bottle he had and Crowley felt himself start to sober up, both of these things would change by the end of the night if he had anything to do about it. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TW eye gore  
also, sorry its so short, i wanted to get something out and school and blah blah blah

Aziraphale had shut the door behind himself harder than he meant to. He turned to open it again and correct himself but couldn’t. He was feeling terrible, it felt as if every emotion was going through his mind at once and spinning like a tornado. He rubbed his forehead with his palms as he walked further into the shop. His walk nowhere ended when he tripped to the floor on the puddle of books he had made fall to the floor earlier that day. He held himself up on his hands and looked at the books on the floor. He whined to himself adding another thing to the list of bad things that had happened today when he noticed a book lying open. It was one of his many bibles open to the book of Matthew.   
“First cast out the beam out of thine own eye;  
and then shalt thou see clearly.”  
Aziraphale ignored the rest of the verse and focused in on that piece. Cast out the beam out of thine own eye. He pondered. Shalt thou see clearly…   
Cast out thine own eye and then shalt thou see clearly…   
He turned the paraphrased verse over and over in his head. There was meaning to this, to him, a reason why the book happened to open to that page and he had seen that verse first. Then a thought came to mind. To anyone else, it would be brushed off as a terrible and intrusive thought to be ignored. But not Aziraphale, to him, it was the right answer. He got up and went to his kitchenette, grabbed a fork, then headed directly upstairs and into the small, used more now than it ever had been, bathroom and shut the door. He stared himself in the eyes, his now black eyes with dark blue iris and square pupils. He hated his eyes, he could stand the hair change to a point but these eyes were not his.   
From downstairs, you could hear a loud groan. From outside the shop, you could hear a yell. From down the street, you could hear a blood-curdling scream. No bystanders or neighbors called anyone and by morning they would have forgotten, this was Soho, strange sounds are commonplace at night.   
\---  
In the bathroom sink was a fork, and stabbed onto the end of the fork was a black eyeball with blue iris and square pupil, the stem of the eye still attached and bleeding. The former owner of the eye was on the floor, frantically searching with one hand through the cupboards under the sink. His other hand was preoccupied with trying to slow the bleeding from his eye, it was somewhat working, not nearly as well as he wanted it to but better than nothing. Aziraphale had learned very quickly that his previously very well and fast-acting healing powers were not working at all now and he had to rely on an unplanned second plan.   
To Aziraphale’s luck, there was a roll of goss under the sink. He quickly waded up some of the goss to put pressure on the eye then tied the rest of the goss diagonally across his head so his one eye could still see. Standing up, blood that had pooled in the folds of his clothes while he crouched flowed down his pant legs and onto his shoes and the white tile floor. He watched the blood drip for a moment before collecting himself and looking in the dreaded mirror again. The goss was holding back the blood nicely, it hadn’t soaked through at least and that was good by his standards. He did have blood streaking and dripping down his chin. He was really, just in general, a bloody mess. He regretted everything in this bathroom being white now that he needed to clean himself up, he could merical the stains away but… was it all worth it? What would using demonic miracles do to him in the eyes of God? But he already performed a demonic merical, he put himself in the shop. Not only was that a frivolous merical something he almost consistently got reprimanded for, but it was also demonic. He ultimately decided that the figure staring back at him from the mirror looked bad enough without the blood on his face.   
Aziraphale was as cleaned up as he could be, he felt that trying to comb back his hair did a good deal to make him look better. But not by much. There was a firewood stove in the back of the shop that hadn’t needed to be used since the invention of central heating. It was used today and Azirapahel stood, trance-like, staring at the flames of the stove. The flames, surprisingly, ate at the eyeball Aziraphale had thrown in and he wondered if he placed his hand in the flames as well if he would burn. The thought floated in and out of his mind and was doing it’s best to convince him to shove his whole arm into the fire. Aziraphale was fighting back the urge but was losing by the minute. Until, what sounded like, something large fell onto a car and set off its alarm. Aziraphale snapped out of his intrusive thought and toward the sound. He shut the door to the stove, letting the fire snuff itself out, and went to the door of his bookshop.   
Looking out the door’s window there was a small group of people gathered around a not-so-great-looking car. From the middle of the group a man sat up and brushed himself off. Aziraphale’s eyes- eye- dilated and his heart stopped at what he saw. Gabriel slid down from the top of the not-so-great-looking car and waves good-bye to the now dispersing crowd. It looked as if he had stepped out of a black a white movie. His skin was a grey toned white, his hair was now pitch dark black to the point where it had no light or shadow, and all of his clothes were some shade of gray. Aziraphale and Gabrial made brief eye contact before Aziraphale snatched at the curtain above the door and yanked it down. He yanked too hard unfortunately and the curtain rolled itself back up at alarming speed and sound. Aziraphale was now looking at the grey Gabriel in the eye. Gabriel still had the fake and assholeish smile on his face but his eyes seemed like they were screaming. Aziraphale put on a faint and just as fake smile and opened the door.  
“Hello, Gabriel.”   
“Aziraphale! Hello!” Gabriel’s smile grew and his eyes screamed louder


End file.
